Texas Temptation

by Kathryn Brocato

  AJ cast a worried glance back. The pinto stumbled and balked, again nearly throwing Mike.

  Suddenly Mike seemed to convulse, twisting in the saddle and flailing at the air.

  New rotors sounded, moving toward the river from the south, and a Border Patrol helicopter appeared.

  “Thank God,” Chance whispered in her ear, as Towers’s chopper turned and headed back.

  AJ noticed it, turning, but couldn’t tear her eyes from where the pinto took a huge leap forward. As if bound by an invisible rope, Towers toppled backward into the river. He struggled briefly, then disappeared. The wail rose, becoming almost a piercing sound, then faded, and the vegetation along the riverbank went still.

  Shivers shook AJ. Gina? La Llorona? She didn’t know. But she wept for them both.

  Off in the distance, sirens sounded, but closer to home, three men on horseback rode out of the bushes.

  For a moment, terror clawed at AJ. Rebel was spent. The horses were sturdy, clearly not able to take on a Thoroughbred on any other day. But now, they’d stay with him easily if he tried to run again. The men had guns. Then the green uniforms registered.

  One of the men nodded at them.

  “U.S. Border Patrol,” he said needlessly. “FBI Agent Jaime Bustos told us you needed assistance.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “This is just the strangest thing,” Ed marveled, looking from Rebel, in his brother’s stall, to Goof, wandering loose around the shed under AJ’s watchful eye. “They look like twins.” He squinted at the two horses. “Now which one was on the news again?”

  She smiled and pointed to Rebel, and laughed when Goof wandered up and butted Ed so hard he almost knocked him down.

  “You took care of the jealous one,” she told him. She re-fastened Goof’s lead.

  “Thanks again, Ed. If you don’t mind, I’ll stay in the trailer. My friend’s coming for the horses tomorrow.”

  “It’s been a real nice job. Thanks,” Ed said, and they shook hands.

  She walked back to the trailer. A clean cloth covered the table and she’d put clean linens on the bed. Hard to believe that the chaos from their escape hadn’t died down.

  Proving ownership of Rebel hadn’t been difficult and he’d been cleared to go home to Florida.

  AJ and her mother had temporary custody of Robbie, with adoption procedures to follow.

  But she and Rosa had almost come to blows over Mike Towers’s money. Neither of them wanted it.

  “His money is filthy!” Rosa protested, when Chance and she insisted that Rosa lay claim to the Towers’s fortune. “My mother is gone, and—and what would I do with money?”

  While she eventually agreed that she might be able to use it to undo some of the damage Towers had done, she and Chance turned the tables on AJ, insisting that she should consider Robbie’s future and find out if he was Mike’s son or not.

  AJ sighed. She hadn’t agreed yet. But Rosa had thrown in the most persuasive argument yet.

  “AJ, you got it all back, except Gina,” Rosa pointed out. “Chance lost everything. His job, and his chance to help his uncle and aunt. We might be able to help him with legal fees—or something—down the road.”

  “Or something?” AJ prodded and Rosa laughed.

  “Hire him,” she suggested. “He loves horses and he loves Robbie. Why not make an offer?”

  Maybe because she hadn’t seen him in a week.

  While lawyers worked on her problems, he’d been called in by one agency after another to make statements about Towers, his death, his holdings—one complication after another.

  A shiver shook her, not from anything unnatural now, but because she worried. Those who had been loyal to Mike, or who thought Chance might know something that could hurt them, might come after him, even here.

  She swallowed hard. Rosa and Robbie had flown to Ocala, leaving Emily distraught, but no worse than before. Rebel and Goof would head home in the morning. Now, the only loose thread was Chance.

  • • •

  Chance finally knocked on the door, then came in, looking thin and pale, still too big for the small confines of the trailer.

  She thought seeing him again would be easy, but she couldn’t speak past the lump in her throat.

  He stared at her silently, too, then caught her in his arms, hugging her so close that she could feel his heart thudding against her chest.

  She trembled against him and waited for him to kiss her, but he moved away slightly and brushed at her sweat-dampened hair with a gentle hand.

  “The tablecloth’s a nice touch,” he said, weariness in his voice. “But you probably need a good air conditioner more.”

  Really? After all we went through? Panic needled her.

  “You look tired,” she told him, not wanting to make small talk, but not sure how to move forward.

  “Yeah, I am.” He managed a smile. “When do you leave, AJ?”

  She stared at him. “Briana picks up the horses tomorrow. Robbie and Rosa should be home in an hour or two. I—” She stopped. “It’s hard to find words, Chance. Everything that happened—what didn’t happen. Remember the night before it all crashed down?”

  She didn’t want him to stand there and watch her with those defeated brown eyes. She closed the distance between them and clasped his face. “I thought … I thought there’d be something for us after all the dust cleared.”

  He removed her hands gently, pressing a kiss into each palm.

  “AJ, the dust hasn’t cleared yet. Not for me. I’m not dragging you through this. An FBI agent spoke to me yesterday. They were looking at Mike Towers for murder and for theft—not for insurance fraud.” He traced a finger from her chin down her neck and she shivered.

  “None of that matters,” she insisted. “Chance, why would you do all you did—just to walk away?”

  “I keep thinking about something you said, AJ.” His voice was hoarse and full of pain. “You were right. I didn’t do enough for Gina.” He shook his head when she started to argue. “I never even thought that he lied about Gina cheating. All I could think of was how I felt when I found Linda with someone else. I knew there were rumors that he’d killed his first wife and his stepson, yet I never thought Gina didn’t just flip the car because she was speeding.”

  “Gina would say you’d done everything for her that you could,” AJ protested. “She wasn’t demanding. And you protected the one thing that mattered the most to her—Robbie.”

  She pressed close again, this time wrapping her arms around his waist and clinging. She took a shuddering breath and leaned her head into his chest. “I want a chance—we owe each other that.”

  He tilted her face up and looked down at her. “We don’t owe each other anything. But I guess if you think you want a ‘chance’—” Something of the old sparkle touched his eyes. His lips touched hers and he gathered her close.

  “You don’t owe me anything,” she agreed, loosening her grip to look up at him. “But if nothing else, I owe you big time.”

  She knew the minute she said it he’d take it wrong. He froze, looking down at her almost in disbelief. Then he stepped away. “Do you know what Linda told me the last time we had sex?” he asked tonelessly. “She told me she’d owed me.”

  “I didn’t mean—”

  “No. But I need to see if I can salvage anything, AJ. Right now I can’t afford to owe anything. And I don’t want anyone staying in my life to pay some debt they don’t owe.” He fished in his pocket and withdrew a small, beaded bundle, then folded it gently in her palm and closed her fist. Gina’s rosary. Then he leaned forward and brushed her lips with a kiss so slight she sensed it more than felt it. He turned at the door. “Maybe. If the dust ever does settle,” he said in a voice just slightly louder than a whisper. And left her alone in the trailer.

  • • •

  Ocala, Florida

  Going through the small package of Gina’s belongings was torture, but she was glad that it had been forwarded from Philadel
phia. AJ sat on the floor, propped against the bed she’d slept in before she left home, and pulled out items one by one. A journal with a few entries, all bright optimism that ended abruptly with a scribbled note.

  “AJ, I miss you. Don’t forget your baby sister.”

  Robbie’s ultrasounds. Tears streamed down AJ’s cheeks. She wished Gina had been there, showing her, making her look time after time.

  She put them away carefully. There were only two or three items left in the manila envelope, so she turned it upside down and shook. A couple of scraps fell out, along with a snapshot, which landed upside down.

  AJ turned it over and clapped her hand over her mouth as she gagged. Bile rose in her throat and she battled it. When she could, she lifted the print again, breathing deeply. A blood bay horse lay in a twisted, bloodied heap on a stall floor. With fingers that shook, AJ opened one of the scraps of paper, but it was blank. She reached for the other.

  “Bone. He told me Bone could do the same thing to Rebel that he did to Bold Attempt. I’m so sorry, AJ.”

  The tears started again. First for Gina, haunted by her mistakes and fears, willing to suffer eternally to protect others—first her horse, then her own son. But as the significance of the picture pierced her, she wept for Chance, for the family he thought he’d failed, and the future he didn’t know he deserved.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Rosa threw a pillow at AJ, who batted it away impatiently. “Now what?” she demanded.

  “You don’t remember, do you? Remember when I warned you I’d hate you forever if you killed Chance? How do you know you’re not killing him? You act like he never existed.”

  AJ frowned. “Leave it alone. He’s the one who opted out, Rosa. You know I wanted him to stay.”

  “I guess I do,” she said, after a minute. “I’m taking my baby brother to the petting zoo at the mall and feeding him ice cream until he pukes.” She shot an angelic smile at AJ. “Then I’m bringing him home, because I’m not the parent.”

  “Have fun,” AJ said absently, looking back at the pedigree she’d been studying. Her mom couldn’t decide what bookings to accept for Rebel, or even if she wanted to try to bring him back for one more season on the track. Rebel and Robbie—good medicine for her mother. And for her, she acknowledged, smiling, and tossing the pedigree aside.

  She’d headed for the stairs to shower and change when the doorbell rang. “Surprised they didn’t wait five minutes and expect me to come out naked,” she muttered, and pulled the door open.

  Chance stood there, a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a newspaper in the other. He handed the paper to her first. An Arizona newspaper, showing a picture of a beaming middle-aged man hugging him. “Trainer Cleared of Insurance Fraud.”

  “Chance! That’s wonderful!”

  “These are for you, from Robert and Emily,” he said, holding out the bouquet. She took it and moved aside.

  “Come in, Chance.”

  He did, looking around. “Robbie?”

  “Eating ice cream and puking, if Rosa has her way.”

  He smiled briefly, but grew serious again, watching her as she pulled a glass from a cabinet and set the bouquet in it.

  “AJ … remember when you said you owed me?”

  “Yes.” She stiffened. “Why?”

  “Well, if you owed me for Robbie and Rebel, I guess I owe you for Robert and Emily—so we’re even.”

  “Chance—”

  “The dust has finally settled,” he added. “If it still matters.”

  She took a deep breath and reached out to trace his lips with a finger. He shivered.

  “It still matters,” she whispered. “It always will.”

  The Election Connection

  Monica Tillery

  Avon, Massachusetts

  Copyright © 2015 by Monica Tillery.

  All rights reserved.

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher; exceptions are made for brief excerpts used in published reviews.

  Published by

  Crimson Romance

  an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.

  10151 Carver Road, Suite 200

  Blue Ash, OH 45242. U.S.A.

  www.crimsonromance.com

  ISBN 10: 1-4405-9066-4

  ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-9066-5

  eISBN 10: 1-4405-9067-2

  eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-9067-2

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author's imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.

  Cover art © istockphoto/steinphoto and emarto; 123RF: Andriy Popov

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  For our beautiful cousin, Ashley Tillery Weeks,

  in honor of your sacrifice, and in loving memory of

  Army Specialist Ari Daniel Brown-Weeks

  1984-2007

  Forever in our hearts

  Acknowledgments

  No matter what I write, it’s always better after my wonderful editor, Jess Verdi, gets her hands on it. Thank you for another amazing job! It was fun and gratifying to work with you, as always, and I can’t wait to do it again.

  Thank you also to Tara Gelsomino for believing in me and my book. I truly love working with you and look forward to a bright future together.

  As always, thank you to my wonderful husband, Dave, for your unwavering support and enthusiasm. You are awesome.

  Chapter One

  Lily Ashton took Congressman Ford Richardson’s offered hand and pulled herself out of the Town Car, careful not to scuff her Louboutins on the pavement or flash her panties to the paparazzi. Ford kissed her temple before waving to the crowd and flashing his best campaign smile. As usual, she played it up, gazing at him in adoration for the cameras, though to be honest, it wasn’t much of a chore. His thick, dark hair, strong jaw, and polished good looks were easy on the eyes. He wore a suit like nobody’s business, but they hadn’t been dating quite long enough for her to know what was beneath those expensive fabrics. She had a good idea, though, and the warm, muscled skin she felt beneath her hands when she slipped her arm around his waist during fundraisers and cocktail parties told her she was in for quite a treat if things ever went that far.

  They hurried past the onlookers, tossing out smiles and waves, but no comments, until they reached the hotel where her best friend’s wedding reception would be held. Once they were safely inside the posh lobby, Ford slowed his stride and took her hand. Her heels clicked against the mirror-smooth marble floors, and the rush of guests traveling through the space moved the hotel’s signature lemon-coconut scent over them in a fragrant breeze.

  “Thank you for that.” He always softened when they were alone, turning off the public persona and becoming more human and less politician.

  “For what?” She smoothed her hair and took in the details of the gorgeous hotel lobby. From the impeccably dressed hotel employees to the sophisticated décor, every aspect of the space screamed elegant decadence.

  “For the pictures out there. This is Carly’s day, not mine. I wish we could just go out sometimes and not have photographers waiting outside.” He’d leaned close enough for her to feel the warmth of his breath on her neck and catch a hint of his sophisticated scent.

  If he thought any of the paparazzi outside had come to catch a glimpse of him, then the campaign had scrambled his brain. Carly and her n
ew husband, Michael, were both amazing bakers who met as rival contestants on a reality baking show but ended up falling in love last year when they teamed up to work on a celebrity wedding. Their popularity exploded when they joined forces to create a show on the Cuisine Network where they traveled the world, putting their own spin on popular tourist attractions with inventive themed cakes. Viewers were rewarded with a romantic proposal on the last episode of the season, and the big day had finally come. They had made a slew of famous friends through the show and in working on high-profile weddings. Their reception was going to be teeming with A-listers from every facet of entertainment.

  “We can, but maybe not to the wedding of two television stars who have a ton of famous friends. I’m sure half the paparazzi don’t even know who they’re waiting for, and you just got some free publicity, Congressman. You’re welcome.” Cameras did follow Ford much of the time they went out, but sometimes she wondered if he didn’t enjoy the attention a little more than he let on.

  With a gentle hand at her elbow, he led her into the reception, and she stood in awe of her friend’s glamorous dream made reality. Lily had worked closely with Carly during every step of the wedding and reception planning, but seeing it all come together was breathtaking. The hotel was spectacular, but the decorated ballroom was almost unbelievable. Soft pinks, creamy ivories, and stark blacks mingled in the fabrics, their wedding cake, the china, and linens. It was gorgeous, but weddings were always bittersweet for her.

  She felt mentally healthy enough to be genuinely happy for her friend, though, and watching the pair say their vows earlier was magical. Lily was ready to celebrate them now. The newly married couple bustled into the lobby and stood outside the ballroom doors, waiting for the emcee to announce their arrival, so there was no time for self-pity. She exchanged elated grins with Carly and watched as they drifted in, the crowd parting for them, and walked to the dance floor.